All Along
by nightskiesfading
Summary: Years after their rescue from the island, Kate struggles with her decision to seperate herself from Jack, and finds that it's impossible to let go. Posting the first 3 chapters all at once, the rest is still up in the air.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** All Along  
**Rating:** T  
**Pairing:** Jack & Kate. (Yes, Sawyer is in this story, but it's not really him that's the problem.)  
**Summary:** 5 years post rescue, Kate is still dealing with her past and how it affects her relationship with Jack. Strongly Kate centered, lots of character angst, but in some way it will make you happy. I don't know how that works either.  
**Status of fic:** WIP  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lost, all of it belongs to JJ and co. I just did the writing.

**Notes**: Okay, so yeah I'm starting a WIP, it's been on my mind for a while to do one. I tend to stay away from them because dialogue is my weak point. Those that have read my one-shots on livejournal or LF know that I just like to get in a character's head and bring out what they're thinking. Well I took this opportunity to do this with Kate, and it may seem completely angsty and mean of me at first. This will be updated and completed, I promise, I have an outline already set up. I'm hoping for a good number of chapters, around 20, and a good time with you guys. This is already posted on LF, but I thought I'd like to bring it here.

She nervously chewed the end of her sunglasses as she rested in the shade of the tree. Leaning against the bark, she squinted across the crowded park, watching as the people passed by. The usual visitors were there, she immediately recognized the young man with brown hair walking his lab, his usual errand every Thursday. She smiled in the direction of the young mother with her small child, she always found them entertaining to watch. The patterned scene unfolded before her, and she knew by memory that he would be coming soon.

The California sun was making her sweat, despite the branches that directly blocked her from the rays. It used to worry her, walking out in public, but her fears had calmed into comfort, and now she made daily trips out into the sun. It had been a long time since Kate had ran.

She didn't hesitate all those years ago, when she was handed the dead girl's passport and ID. The rescue boats on the horizon, the girl's husband had handed them to her as a gift, he knew it was her only way out, and what his wife would have wanted. As soon as her feet had hit the pavement, Kate's legs began to work. Breaking into the familiar rhythm of her shoes against the cement as she fled the scene. Running before the cameras came, before anyone could say goodbye.

But it was five years later, and she was able to enjoy the sunlight once again.

She noticed him at once, jogging down the cemented path several yards away. His short hair already slick with sweat, beads making it down his now cleanly shaven face. She smiled as he stopped breifly and brought up the bottom of his gray shirt to wipe his brow, briefly exposing his chest, and making her blush. Kate watched him every Thursday, when she could get out of the house. He always made this jog. The hospital was a block away from the park, and he was able to conveniently clear his head before beginning his long rounds. In a way, seeing him there made her happy, but a part of her was still broken, and would continue to be. To her, Jack would always be in the distance, away from her reach.

She made herself sick with her pining, but it made her more sick to think of going on too long without seeing him there. Her smile broadened as he pushed a soccer ball back to a young boy, flashing his familiar bright smile as the boy ran off in the other direction, kicking the ball once again. She remained tucked away in the corner of the park, he never saw her there, and Kate was sure that if Jack ever did glance in her direction, he wouldn't let himself believe it was her that he saw. Kate came to see him by himself. To watch him normal, happy. She came to assure herself that five years ago she had made the right choice. She was a burden to herself, she didn't need to burden him.

Kate drew herself immediately out her thoughts, her smile fading as he disappeared behind the line of trees. She considered staying there longer, until he returned on his way back to the hospital, but she let herself pull away from the tree and find the path back towards her home, where she belonged anyways. Her apparant border-line stalking was complete for the day, she told herself this as she playfully rolled her eyes, and placed her sunglasses back on her head, pulling herself back into reality.

The worn out apartment complex greeted her with the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and stale beer. Opening the door to her apartment she threw the keys against the counter and fully intended to lay on the couch until she was forced to get up.

"Where ya' been?" A voice called out, startling her, turning her around in the direction of the kitchen table. Sawyer sat there, his hair combed back nicely, a new suit on.

"You scared me." She spoke, relieved. "I just went out on a walk."

He nodded his head, knowing better. He didn't have an education past ninth grade, but he wasn't ignorant. Sawyer knew that he wasn't who she thought about constantly, and it wasn't his name she mumbled in her sleep. She was off watching Jack buy groceries, or go into work. He knew, to some level, that it hurt him inside. Though long ago he void himself of emotions, it hurt him to see her torn away from Jack, and it hurt him knowing how far he had fallen into second place. But he never confronted her about it, it was him she had ran to three years ago. Coming in from the rain, her cheeks stained with tears. He opened up his door to her then, and he would continue to offer her his home. Pulling a cigarette out of his pocket he stood up from the table and walked over to where she stood. "I thought I'd come home early today."

"So, uh, how's this con going along? That's what you were out doing, right?" She spoke as he walked past her, then turned and flashed her his familiar dimpled grin. The other survivors changed, on several levels, after the crash of flight 815. But it didn't surprise Kate at all to see Sawyer's motto firmly standing, he would never change his stripes.

"Yeah, I hooked her in this morning. Briefcase ordeal." He lit the cigarette and took a quick drag. "Should have this one done by the end of the week. Simple."

Kate nodded her head as she changed her plans of resting on the couch, and instead looked towards her bedroom to lay her head. "I'm going to take a nap." She stated, walking out of the room, as Sawyer found the couch and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table.

Closing her door, Kate quietly fell onto the bed as she held back tears. Angry at herself for becoming emotional, for being so vulnerable. She had made the right choice, she told herself again. Jack is a doctor, respected in his field. She is a criminal, with no place in the world. The place for her was here, in this hole in the wall of an apartment, with the only other person she knew that didn't belong as well. Jack didn't need her, and though she needed him, she cared too much to take him through the ordeal of knowing Kate Austen.

And she was sure, that if she continued to tell herself this, she would begin to believe it. And that's what she needed to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He carefully turned the small dial until it rested on the number he was looking for, and the locker lazily swung open. He was anxious to get out of the sweaty clothes he wore now, but the rest of the day's attire did not look any more appealing. He grimly scanned the contents of the light gray locker opened in front of him, his light blue scrubs and a neatly pressed black suit inside. Already irritated, he pulled the suit out and took it off it's hanger.

The locker room was dim, and it seemed all of it's contents were some shade of gray. It didn't help to excite Jack's mood in the morning.

He would have several consultations today, and probably not a single surgery. The day would be spent talking to emotional spouses and already terrified patients, people that didn't have a minute of medical experience, but wanted to tell him how to do his job. Surely, when he chose to be a doctor, he thought it would be more exciting. Then he smiled and reminded himself, he had not chosen this job. No, when he was a child, Jack wanted to be a cowboy or an astronaut. It was his father that had stripped him of all childhood dreams, handed him a stethoscope, and told him he needed to think realistically. Now Jack was stuck being superman.

He stopped himself before taking his thoughts any further, reminding himself his father was dead, and quickly pushing any thoughts away. It was an easy line of thought to dwell on, and Jack found it came up often, at the least opportune times. When it wasn't on his mind already, it was his mother bringing it up, or co-workers, forcing a nod when the familiar 'You must feel awful about it' arose.

His muscles ached from his long jog, but then again, that was the point of excercise in the first place. He was happy to get himself in shape, with the stress of his job and his growing habit of unhealthy eating. The jogs in the park gave him a breath of fresh air. And that was what he needed most. The smell of flowers and grass was a large contrast to the overwhelming smell of hospital he endured every day.

Putting his suit jacket on he glanced at his watch and groaned at the short amount of time he had until his first scheduled appointment. Jack wiped his hand across his forehead as he thought about the remainder of his day, full of headaches and X-Rays, and he held on to the pleasant thought of advil and alcohol waiting for him after his long shift was over.

The first of Thursday's headaches were quick and swift to come, as the silence of the room was shattered as the large door was opened and the noise of the hallway was invited in. Jack cursed under his breath as the door shut itself loudly and the intruder walked over to another row of locker's to remove his jacket.

"Morning, Shephard" the man said as he turned towards Jack and smiled. 

"Hey, Mark" was the dry return. Conversation was not what Jack wanted, and he especially didn't want to hear the words of advice he knew were soon to come.

Mark Vann was younger than Jack, a doctor he knew before the crash, though they never spoke much. He didn't have nearly as much experience, in any aspect of life, as Jack did. Yet Mark was always the first one to toss advice in Jack's direction, though that seemed to be the thing to do lately.

"So you didn't call Lauren back last night." He spoke with his back turned now, as he messed with the clothes held in his locker, beginning to leave from his night shift.

Jack made sure to take this opportunity to roll his eyes. "I fell asleep early." he lied.

"What, Jack, you don't like her?" His coworker shut his locker and turned around now, facing him. He was expecting a sincere answer, by the look on his face, but Jack was certainly not in the mood.

"No, Mark. It's just like the other people you have been shoving on me for the last, what, 4 years? And that includes the guy friends you keep introducing me to at the parties that you try and force me to go to. I don't feel like doing that stuff. I don't want a girlfriend right now, I don't need any new friends at all right now, alright? After a divorce and the mess with the plane crash...I just..."

"You just enjoy going home to a shelf of alcohol and reruns of ER?" Mark cut him off, and knew by the look on Jack's face he did not appreciate it. "This plane crash should have opened your eyes to your life, Jack. It's been five years, that's a long time. I'm just trying to help. I just feel you're going through some depression, and you could use some friends. And a girlfriend, you really could use one of those, Jack"

Jack shut the door on his locker, and put on his white overcoat, clipping on his name tag and putting his pen in the pocket. He let the silence settle for a while, enjoying it, then smiled and looked up as he walked past. "Not this year, Mark."

He was stopped before he made it to the door, and bit his lip before he said what was on his mind. "Hey, what about the banquet coming up? To dedicate the new wing to Dr. Barnes. It's going to be a nice suit and tie affair, you should bring a date. Let me have her call you later. Give you a while. I just think it's good." Jack didn't reply, just continued out the door, and on to the rest of the day. It was a once a week occurrence, at least, that he was forced into these awkward conversations. Though the thought was flattering, at first, that someone cared to help him out, he was increasingly getting more upset at the fact that people felt the need to shower him with pity.

It wasn't just Mark, and he felt a hint of regret for the way he had treated him recently, it was everyone from the nurses to relatives he so rarely spoke to, and it never took long to remind Jack why. He didn't deserve the pity. Though life on the island may have been hell, he found he enjoyed the opportunity it gave him, and almost missed the days the days he spent in the sun. Granted, he could do without Dharma and Sawyer, but he let himself hold on to the good memories. The island gave him a chance to look at his life, to let himself breathe. Since his return, he felt suffocated.

Relieved, he reached the table set aside for coffee, and stopped his thoughts by pouring some for himself, letting himself relax as he enjoyed the smell and steam coming from the Styrofoam cup. He gladly took his small cup of relief into his office, and shut the large door behind him, closing off the loud noise from the hallway. Turning his wrist over he glanced at his watch, 10:15. Jack's first consult had begun five minutes ago. 

--

Eleven hours later Jack opened the door from his garage, slinging his keys against the kitchen counter, and listening to the echo of the new noise against the quiet of the large house. The lights were off, and he decided to keep them that way. He kicked off his shoes first, then neatly placed them together beside the door. The house was spotless, and very empty. It was too large for Jack, he didn't have enough furniture to fill it all, and he certianly didn't have anyone to share it with.

His first stop was the medicine cabinet, where he gladly opened the bottle to headache relief. Opening the refrigerator, he let the dim light spilt out over the dark kitchen as he reached inside for another bottle, of a different kind of relief.

He fell onto his couch, not bothering to find the remote. Jack only watched TV on Wednesday night. He could see his answering machine blinking from where he sat on the couch, the bright number '4' shining back at him in red. He didn't exert the effort to go listen to them, he could, more than likely, tell what they were already. Certainly a call from his mother, bill collectors, maybe even a vacation offer in exchance for a subscription. Nothing that couldn't wait. His neck and feet ached, his eyes were dry, he was fully exhausted.

There was a voice inside him, every time he found himself slipping back into these familiar habits. Telling himself it was his father's mistake, and he should stay away from a similar fate. But he found the voice increasingly easier to brush off, and the thought of fate an easier concept to turn his back on.

At times he stopped to examine himself, during these five years of being home. Regret swelled inside him, occasionally, when thinking of the mistakes he had made. Jack had, admittedly, thrown his 'self-discovery' on the island out the window when he first returned home to the same job and the same empty house. Sarah had called him several times when he first arrived back, but that was one lesson Jack refused to go back on, and he gladly didn't return her calls.

Through all it took for him to realize it on the island, he _had_ finally learned how to let go. Though it seemed since his return he found himself holding on to some things even tighter than he had before. His muscles stayed tense, he had become even further high strung. Psychiatry was offered to him, from several of the same relatives and friends, but he could examine his own mind much better than someone payed to do it.

He couldn't let go of the picture in his mind. The memory he had of Kate running away, before he could say goodbye. Before he could tell her what he wanted to say. He couldn't let go of the memory of her running back to her old life and her old mistakes, and the thought that he could do nothing about it. He couldn't let go of her mug shot, that lay tucked away in his dresser drawer.

No, he held on to that tighter than he held on to the bottle in his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Her spoon scraped the bottom of the now empty ice cream container, collecting the few remains left behind at the bottom, savoring the taste before it had to be thrown away. Kate let out a low sigh as she set her spoon down, finishing the rare treat of name brand ice cream, a small carton that she bought every week. It was a necessary contrast against the bargain groceries stored up in their pantry, food that tasted the same every week, and showed no signs of improving.

Sawyer brought home money, but after rent, bills, and a new suit and jacket, few dollars ever made it into Kate's hand.

She could save up, buy a nice outfit, maybe some form of entertainment for her long days indoors, but Kate found the best enjoyment at the bottom of a carton of Ben and Jerry's.

The thought had spurng into her mind, on occasion, to get a job in the city, help Sawyer with the income, but selfishness was quick to arise in Kate's mind and she couldn't bring herself to apply for another job. She couldn't stand the thought of more long hours for pig bosses who only wanted to stare at her ass.

In the first years of life after the island she had suffocated herself with fake ID's and greasy diners, short skirts and hairy truck drivers. A newly contrived name on the "Hello my name is" line at every town, the growing desire to actually strangle the next man who whistled when she turned around. The memories of her 'paychecks' were easy to recall, though not fond to remember, the cheap hotels she stayed in with the money, or the occasional apartment, if it was sturdy enough to earn that name. Her hair changed colors, sometimes her eyes, usually both, as often as her name.

As much as she wished she was somewhere other than Sawyer's, she was not going to be quick to leave. It wasn't heaven, but it certainly wasn't hell.

Perhaps a job in LA wouldn't bring all those things, but Kate didn't like the reminder a work schedule brought. Maybe she could get a job as a secretary, sit at a nice desk, dress up to go to work. Kate found herself laughing, the thought felt too permanent, too normal. And certainly that wouldn't work. You can't uproot from those jobs fast enough, and anything too serious would require paperwork, and some paperwork Kate couldn't fake. She didn't need co-worker friends or office parties, and she certainly wasn't returning to wearing an apron, and Kate found the conclusion of staying home an easy one to make after all, despite how bored she got in the afternoons. She made a mental note to leave the house more, and to do more things when she left the house, things other than looking over Jack and past regrets.

Setting her spoon and empty ice cream on the coffee table in front of her, Kate curled back into the couch and ran her hand through her hair, lingering on a strand and twining it between her fingers, admiring the color. She reminded herself not to dye it anymore, she liked the return back to natural, though as she said this the voice in the back of her head reminded her she would be running again.

The living arrangement with Sawyer was far from permanent, it was never planned to be, and both parties knew it. Kate was sure that Sawyer, on some level, enjoyed her company, and secretly appreciated the domestic routine of having someone waiting for him when he came home from work. Though his work was a crime, and Kate didn't love him, but it was a good deception of normal life, something they would never have, but somewhere inside want. But they would always have deception.

Sawyer accepted the deception, something Jack would never do, which was why Kate was sitting in Sawyer's sht hole of an apartment, watching his static filled television, and finding Jack creep into her mind again. Part of Kate wanted that domestic routine with Jack, part of her would even accept a deception of it, but the rational part of her kicked Kate back into place, deception didn't work with Jack, she would want the real thing, and she couldn't have it. Domestic was foreign to her, routine wasn't her reality. She ran for self-preservance, she destroyed others for self-preservance, and she wouldn't let herself have the chance to destroy Jack.

Or maybe, that part of her wasn't rational at all.

Letting out a sigh again she fought to not depress herself, the long hours alone in the apartment brought heavy thinking, and Jack was a common subject. The empty apartment was not good for her conscious. Go out more, she reminded herself again. A yawn escaped her mouth as she turned to the window and frowned at the sun setting past the buildings, not realizing how late it had gotten.

Outside, Sawyer thought the same thing as he stepped out of the car into the parking garage beside the building. The last remaining rays of sunlight were dissapearing behind the horizon, and he fought to hold back a yawn as he reached the conclusion of his long day out. Putting his keys into the pocket of his suit pants, he pulled out a cigarette in return and set it in his mouth, climbing the stairs to his apartment floor before bringing out his lighter and flicking open a flame.

"Are you Mr. Sawyer?" A voice called out behind him, startling him, but Sawyer was skilled in hiding sudden changes in emotion.

He turned slowly as he lit the cigarette, smiling wrily at the irony of the name, and his own quest to ask that same question.

In his usual manner he casually took a drag from the cigarette and viewed the man. He looked in some way familiar, but the face didn't register in Sawyer's mind. They had to be around the same age, though the difference in appearance was drastic. Short brown hair, neatly combed back, casual business clothes on, and Sawyer noted the wedding band around his finger.

_Why the hell is this man standing in the hallway of my apartment door?_

"Depends who's asking" Sawyer calmly replied, covering up his anxiety over the presence of the stranger with the calm southern drawl and an exhale of smoke from his mouth.

"My name's Albert Washington." The man replied, in the same tone as before. His voice was calm, but something sat layered underneath that Sawyer couldn't quite place, but it caused a stir in his calm physique.

The name didn't register any more than the face had, and Sawyer took another drag as he bought time for his reply.

"That name supposed to mean something to me?" Good default answer, Sawyer concluded.

"I was hoping it would."

Sawyer looked behind him, the door to his apartment a few feet away. He felt silly for his sudden apprehension, but he had seen crazy things in his life, and he wasn't stupid. _I'm scared of a man in khakis named Albert. _

"Maybe you remember my wife, Rebecca Washington?"

He did, and he knew the recognition was apparent on his face.

"You do remember then." His tone raised, and Sawyer took a step backwards, "You remember picking her up at a bar, spending a nice night with her, luring her in with a promise of money, and meeting me for lunch. Do you remember her, Mr. Sawyer? Or do you remember the money you took from me?"

He did. He remembered both. Though confusion was clear on his face now. _How the hell did this guy find me?_

"Look, Albert, it wasn't that much money. I'll reimburse you, and I apologize."

There was a lie, but Sawyer was skilled in them. Lies to him were buildings to a carpenter, he crafted them carefully, and sturdy as hell.

Albert could tear them down.

"You think I care about the damn money?" His tone was harsh, unforgiving. The man took a step forward as Sawyer continued to step back, until he halted quickly, and noticed the man's hand. Albert was holding a handgun, and it was quickly pointed toward's Sawyer's face.

"You broke up my marriage, you got my wife pregnant, and you want to give me a couple hundred bucks back?"

The moment brought flashes to his eyes, and Sawyer recalled the island. Jack had shoved plenty of guns into his face, but Sawyer knew the good doctor would never pull the trigger.

_Albert_ did.


End file.
